All's Unfair in Love and War
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: When Monroe really thinks about it, Nick is 'unfair' personified; a walking, talking body that should have had the six-letter word stamped on its forehead. Hinted  unrequited  slash.


**All's Unfair in Love and War**

"-_Blutbaden _and _Bauer_-" hiccup, "_-schwein_, those two have been at it for _years_..."

Monroe stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He would have recognized Nick's voice from across the bar on a good day, but even more so when it was laced with slurred speech and wild thoughts. Because that's what it would sound like to anybody else- wild.

"I've got this friend, y'see... He's a _Blutbad_-"

Monroe quickly slid to a stop next to Nick's seat at the bar, laying a hand on the Grimm's shoulder. Not gently. He squeezed, letting his nails bite into the soft flesh beneath the navy shirt he was wearing. "Hey, buddy. I think we should go."

Why he'd let Nick talk him into a couple drinks at the bar, he had no idea. Bars were just... dirty places. Who knew what kind of unknown stuff happened behind the scenes. He did _not _want to know, did _not _want to think about it. He just plastered a fake smile on his face as he half stared, half glared down at the Grimm sitting before him.

"Monroe!" Nick slurred, half rising out of his seat and clamping his hand on Monroe's shoulder when he swayed. Now it was Monroe's turn to flinch. "This is the friend!"

"Uh, yeah, man. I'm your friend. If you wanna call it that. Come on, we should head home. Juliette's probably worried-"

"_Blutbad!_ See, he kinda turns into this wolf thing when he's upset." Nick hiccupped again, blinking a bit afterwards as his pallor seemed to change. Monroe was torn between jerking his ass out of the bar or moving away, because Nick looked like he was about to leggo his eggo.

"Dude..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to the bartender. "Look, I'm sorry if he's caused any trouble. He doesn't normally go around getting drunk, trust me. He's very docile."

"Oh, no, no trouble at all!" The response was hurried, filled with anxiety and the slightest edge of hysteria. Monroe looked up, frowning, some part of his mind wondering if Nick had done something before he'd gotten there. The harried-looking face of the bartender shifted just as he looked up, and Monroe was met with the eyes of a frantic _Maushertz_. So _that's _why Nick had gone off on a drunken-Grimm speech. Damn if he had to yell about it to a pack of goons in a bar, though.

"_Blutbaden_ get wild 'round red," Nick added, leaning against Monroe's side. The _Blutbad_ in question glanced sideways at the Grimm, awkwardly wrapping his arm around the smaller body to prevent him from falling. Speaking of red, he _felt _red. Geesh. _Stop talking about me, Nick! _he wanted to scream, but, thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. "Monroe's a _Wieder_, though. He's a cool guy."

"Dude, he knows all of this..." he muttered halfheartedly, looking down at Nick. The Grimm was grinning lazily, eyes hazed but hectic with a light Monroe had never seen before. It was... an interesting look on Nick. Monroe wasn't sure... He shivered. "Let's go before you get the whole Wesen world here on your ass."

"And, see, my Aunt, she had this, like, really secret tra-"

Before Nick could get another word out, Monroe had slapped his hand over the younger's mouth. Nick struggled- weakly- for a moment before glaring up at him, just as weakly. He didn't know much about Aunt Marie or the trailer in general, but he knew it wasn't something that needed to be shared.

"Time to go, Nick," he growled, his vision shimmering the slightest as the inner wolf changed him. He was just the slightest bit peeved; he was angry that Nick had dragged him here and he was upset that Nick was trying to divulge these important secrets. He saw the bartender flinch just the slightest, out of the corner of his eye, and when he had fought the wolf instincts off, he added "I don't know what he's talking about. Do _you _know what he's talking about?" for emphasis. It was basically a warning, without so many words. The _Mauzhertz_ shook his head quickly, moving away.

Nick had stopped struggling at this point, and Monroe found the Grimm leaning against him heavily. He could smell exhaustion, somehow inexplicably stronger than the alcohol at this point. He looped his arm around Nick's waist this time, forcing the detective to stand up straight. "Come on, come on," he urged, helping Nick to the door. The detective, thankfully, went without another word. It seemed the alcohol was finally catching up with him. "You can sleep when we get to the car, because, obviously, I'm going to be the one driving." Thank goodness he had a level head.

Somehow, five minutes later, Monroe had wrangled Nick (who seemed to have already fallen into the deeper side of unconsciousness) into Nick's car. He sighed deeply, breathing in the deep, heady scent that was only Nick, feeling a prickle of safety when his seatbelt clicked into place. The night hadn't gone as planned- he had to save the Grimm's ass, as usual- but at least he was one step closer to making it home. He just wanted to get back to his house and into his bed.

He had a ten minute drive full of silence ahead of him, so he flipped on the radio softly to keep him occupied. He wasn't particularly tired, but he didn't need to find the silence so peaceful so he would be. He kept it quiet, so the words were unintelligible, but the hum of it was enough to keep his mind alert. He glanced sideways at Nick, a frown setting his lips.

Nick tried too hard for someone like himself. He really did. He did all that trying to see the good in everyone crap, saving the worst response for last. He always gave the benefit of the doubt. He really shouldn't. Especially in this world.

Monroe had looked back at the world while he thought all of this, watching the pavement flash by outside. The trees, the houses, the cars... They all flew past, slow enough to form a mental picture but fast enough so he didn't get the details. Is this how Nick saw life now? Did he get the feeling that sometimes things were moving far too fast? He flashed a glance at the Grimm again, his deep-set frown turning into a soft smile when he found the Grimm passed out against the door. Sure, this little alcohol-consumption, drink-away-your-worries thing was bad, but Nick sure did look cute when he was passed out with his forehead against the window.

When he thought that, he frowned. Nearly choked. What was he thinking? Did he just call that Grimm cute? Nick? He called Nick cute? Monroe swallowed hard, shaking his head a bit, rearranging his grip on the steering wheel. It really wasn't the first time, if he were to be honest with himself, that he found himself just kind of wondering about himself. Ever since Nick had shown up, well, maybe not since their first initial meeting because that was a bad meeting but, ever since they had become friends of a sort, he'd been looking forward to the time they got to spend together. That was bad, wasn't it?

They came to a quiet stop outside of Nick's house; Monroe put the car in park before leaning back, watching the Grimm. That was unfair. He was so attractive. He was a Grimm and he was attractive, and most of all unfair was the fact that he was a guy. He was a heterosexual guy who had a girlfriend, who was currently peering out through the front window curtains. Monroe eyed her a bit unhappily, looking back to Nick. He was unfair. He just _exuded_ unfair.

But, life was unfair, Monroe reasoned as he unclipped his seatbelt, reached over to unsnap Nick's. He paused, his face half an inch away from Nick's sleeping one, thinking. How easy it would be, and Nick would never know...

He sighed, his breath ruffling Nick's coal black hair. Monroe pulled away, closing his eyes briefly. No, Nick would have never known if Monroe had given him a goodnight kiss, but it felt too personal, too intimate. And so, _so _wrong. He reopened his eyes, opening the door and sliding out before making his way to the passenger side.

"Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty..." he murmured, fingers closing around the icy touch of the door handle before he pulled it open.


End file.
